Glass Ceiling Vignettes
by ava writes
Summary: A series of snapshots into the life of Harry Potter after the war, with a woman who isn't his wife. Various POVs, non-epilogue compliant.
1. The Entranced Damsel

Okay, first. So this is the first piece of fiction that I have written since forever. If you guys have comments, suggestions, witty or not so witty criticisms, virtual or not so virtual flames, please do send them to me. I need to find my voice again. Thank you.

Second, this is canon compliant with a complete disregard for the epilogue. Set in present times, both Harry and Daphne are around the age of 33-34.

Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Of Glass Ceilings and Entranced Damsels**

He was in the Forest again.

Harry doesn't even blink, this has been the regular set up of his dreams since the war was won.

_Since you won the war._

He ignores the voice and closes his eyes. He'll wake up soon.

"Haz."

His eyes open.

"Hazza."

It's not possible. He's always dreamed of the Forest, but he's never dreamed of her. Not even once. Why is he hearing her voice now?

He sees a doe patronus watching him by the rock, but instead of her beckoning him over she edges in closer. She's scared, maybe. Harry steps forward, nearing the patronus.

He tilts his head, confused. In reality, this doe patronus was Snape's; the shape of her mother's inner animal, but here, it's different. _She's different._

"Daphne?" He asks.

He was answered by a laugh, "Wake up, sleepy head."

He opens his eyes, and the first sight he sees is the colour of steele blue.

"Your staff was about to call in a warding team to break down your door, you know." She says, her head twisting to the side to deliver a smile to one of the apprentice healers hanging by the door. "They're lucky I was on my way to see you."

Harry just stares at her for a while, unsure how to act and he's always been unsure when it comes to Daphne Greengrass, because she's Daphne Greengrass and she knows how to get under his skin.

"Are you going to say something, or are you just going to stare at my beauty?" Daphne jokes, only she doesn't. For all the years he has known her (and a whole lot of years it has been) she never jokes. She's too much of a Slytherin to give that kind of thinking up.

"Well, I was thinking about asking on what you're doing here, but I was distracted by a beautiful blonde perched on my desk." He replies to her question, _well two could play that game_.

She rolls her eyes.

He smirks back.

"What? You are beautiful." He continues. It had always been like this between them. Flirt, banter, mild annoyance, and repeat.

She looks at him. Like really looks at him in a way that unnerves him. She's worried about him, he catches on to that. She doesn't use the Slytherin Stare (Ice Queen Glare, he calls it.) at him unless she's concerned. His features shift into worry, Daphne was never worried about him nowadays.

"Daph." He says and he sees a weight settle upon her shoulders.

"Haz." She says back. "You're wife called me."

Wife. His eyes widen. Ginny? What? Why would she call Daphne? Was there something wrong?

He hears her sigh, as if already knowing that he's going through all the useless details and pinpointing where he went wrong. She's used to it. She's used to him.

"She says you haven't been home for four days and I asked around the Trauma department." She tells him with a certain degree of resignation. "What are you thinking pulling 96 hour shifts? You're not 24 anymore, Hazza."

"I'd give anything to be 24 again." He says before he thinks.

Her eyes widen.

Stupid Gryffindor breeding, his inner self seethes.

"Harry." She says, her tone broken. He will be the cause of his own death, he knows it.

Her hand moves to cup his cheek, "Harry." She repeats. "We've talked about this, remember?"

His eyes look into hers and he speaks. "We were 24 and we just finished a bloody 36 hour shift, Daphne." His tone cut her, he knew. "That conversation was lodged between me wanting to head the godawful Trauma department and you wanting to become the next Poppy Pomfrey." His tone was clinical and she flinched back. "How could I forget it? It was when I asked you to marry me."

She wipes the corner of her eyes and takes a deep breath. "And remember what I said after?"

_I'm not Andromeda Black, Haz._

"I'm not Andromeda Black, Haz." She repeats for him. "And I'm not Ginevra Weasley. I'm not fit for you in the eyes of the Wizarding world and I'm not strong enough to face it."

Her hands were back on his cheek and she leans forward, "I'm not as strong as you'd need me to be."

She kisses him; close mouthed and short. She moves back and gets off her perch. "You're the hero everybody needs, Haz. I'm just a damsel entranced." She gives him a wave and walks out of his office.

A few seconds later, he hears a tap on his door. She's back, leaning on the door frame and tracing the print with her eyes.

**_Harry Potter, Healer Specialist  
_****_Chief of Trauma_**

"Forget something?"

She smiles at him, bright and broken. "Go home to your wife, Potter."

"Yes, ma'am." He salutes, going a bit for comedy.

She laughs and looks at him. "Later?" He asks.

"Later." She replies and walks away.

He sighs and gets up from his chair. He shakes his head, clearing the past few moments away. It's never a good idea to apparate with a wandering mind.


	2. The Start and The Beginning

A/N: I was told that the original drabble left a lot of intrigue and that snapshots into their past would be a good way to satiate their curiosity, and since I am in no way capable of writing a full blown series on their relationship, nor do I feel trapping them into the lands of 5000 word oneshots and forgetting them after, I felt it best to write a series of vignettes.

Timeframe: 2002-2003, set 11 years before the first snapshot.  
Point of View: Ron Weasley, third person limited.

I hope you guys like it!

* * *

This story did not start in Mungo's like everybody believes it did, nor did it start in Hogwarts.

It starts on a simple Christmas party back in '03.

* * *

"When did that happen?" Ron Weasley, Auror Cadet extraordinaire, pointed to the corner that housed Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass entertaining a messy haired, blue-eyed, four-year old boy.

Now that Ron thinks of it, since when was there a dark-haired, blue-eyed kid in here? The only one he could think of was Teddy, but that kid prefers his eyes green and his hair pink.

He sees the kid's eyes flicker forest green for a moment, before it returned to steel blue.

_The fuck? Why's Teddy looking like Harry and Greengrass' kid?_

"Huh?" Hermione comments, not looking up from her book. Ron knew he made a mistake for buying her that Wizengamot history book, now he'd never be able to capture her full attention for a week.

At least.

He sighs, then tilts Hermione's head around to the spot he pointed out earlier.

"That."

Hermione wrinkles her forehead, wondering where Ron was heading.

"There's nothing there, Ron. Harry and Daphne are just friends." Hermione tells him, though Ron noticed that it wavered into unsure when she said 'just friends'.

"You sure?" Ron asked, looking over to the instant happy little family. Teddy was sitting in Daphne's lap, Harry was across from them reading some muggle pop-up book featuring some mermaid and a talking crab or something of the sort, he's not really sure, it's something the former Slytherin bought for Teddy.

Hermione told him it was a muggle thing so he shouldn't worry his pretty little head about it. (She actually said the pretty little bit). But still, she's a snake, even if she's 'reformed' or whatever Harry says.

Snakes never change. They simply change their skin.

But, Ron could play nice with the snake for his best mate, especially if she makes him happy.

He hears a cajoling of laughter, he returns his sight back to the trio. Cracking a smile, Ron reinforces that thought.

If she could make Harry continue to laugh like that, he could definitely play nice.

* * *

But, that wasn't where the story began.

* * *

"What? There's a difference?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"Of course, there's a difference doofus." Daphne smirked, "Like in the morning, you begin to wake up when the sun shines down your face, but you only _start _to wake up when you step on the floor."

"What?" He uttered, "How did you know that?"

"I've got my ways, now shush."

* * *

The story began back in the winter of 2002, with Connie Hammer, then Head of the Auror Department, was yelling up a storm in the middle of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"What in the nine circles of bloody hell do you mean you're tendering your two weeks notice, Potter?!"

If Harry Potter was any other man, he would've cowered in fear and whimpered that it was nothing, and he was just having an off day, but Harry Potter wasn't any other man. Which is why he replied the following.

"My two weeks notice, ma'am. It's usually a letter detailing to one's superior why the employee would want to resign from their work?"

To the aurors staying in that floor, they all must have thought he had a death wish.

To Ron, it seems like Harry's talent for snarking just came back at the most inopportune time.

"Don't get cheeky with me, Potter! Answer the question! Why the fuck are you quitting the DMLE?!" Hammer yelled into Harry's face, the middle-aged woman was already thinking of the ways that this could backfire into her, or worse, into the management of the department. What will the Minister say? Worse,_ what will the Prophet say?_

"Like it's written in the letter Madam Hammer, I was given an opportunity I couldn't turn down." Harry told her calmly; like she wasn't invading his personal space and yelling at his ears.

It seems like Harry mastered the art of not giving a shit anymore. Or he just really wants to die by strangulation at the middle of the ministry.

"What?! An opportunity!?" Hammer gasped, "You're wasting all this-" she gestured around blindly, "You could head this department by the time you're thirty, Potter! And you're wastng it all for an opportunity?!"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry replied, he's faced down worse things than an irate woman. He could handle this, just, he could handle this. "Madam Hammer, if you would want to know my reasons or doing this please do simply read the letter," He with held a sigh as he said this, "If not, I will still leave as stated, but through different channels."

He doesn't really mean it, but it gets the point across. Hammer visibly stiffened at the phrasing he used, unsure on how and when did the man in front of her change from the unsure Auror cadet to being able to threaten her without using words, it was like he was taught.

Hammer nods her head, "I would want a more thorough explanation," she hangs her sentence deliberately, wanting to see if Potter would rise to the bait.

"Of course, ma'am." Harry tells her.

The Head Auror gives him an indistinguishable look, before walking back towards her office.

The silence that followed could be said to be so loud, you could hear a pin drop and Ron, after many years of living with five brothers, learned the best way to destroy that kind of silence.

"Alright folks, show's over. Back to work!" He yelled, as he made his way towards Harry, who was now standing in his cubicle.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, and Harry for the life of him just realised what kind of scene he pulled, laughed out loud.

"Okay," Ron commented, "If you're done being completely mental over there, mate, tell me what was that about, yeah?"

Harry just nods, not being able to coherently form a sentence due to having a laughing fit that wouldn't look out-of-place in a mental asylum.

Ron shakes his head. He's used to crazy nowadays.

* * *

To be continued...

Please review! I need help in improving my writing. :)


	3. Thoughts on Importance

Chapter Title: Thoughts on Importance  
Timeframe: August of 2007  
Characters Involved: Astoria Malfoy (nee Greengrass), Daphne Greengrass, Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter  
Point of View: Astoria, third person limited.  
Notes: As this is in Astoria's point of view, the conversation among Harry and Daphne is not complete since she did not pay attention well enough. More so, with Daphne and Teddy's conversation. It's a running theme that Astoria seems to stay a little more on her thoughts than listening to what is happening around her.  
Also, there is a bit of Daphne history there, though a lot of it is implied. If you would want a more detailed history of her, DM me here! :)  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

It was a Sunday, and like all Sundays since her sister moved out and became the family disgrace, Astoria was in Diagon Alley. Having lunch. With her disgraced sister.

That statement alone makes her want to bang her head against the table.

It's not like she doesn't like Daphne, no, that's the farthest thing one could ever come from the truth, no. It's just that she really doesn't like the rest of society's reaction to their weekly lunch dates.

Eye rolling, tutting, and worst of all, _'Why do you still see her, Astoria? You could be so much better without her dragging you down.'_

If someone says that to her at the next gala, function, or gathering, she will cast a bone breaker at them.

Their throat, most likely.

"-the infirmary at Hogwarts is quite often overlooked, you know." Daphne tells her, seemingly unaware of the murderous thoughts her sister has for some individuals.

But Astoria wouldn't be billed as the perfect little trophy wife if she wasn't good at faking following conversations and keeping her face blank.

But Daphne is better. (She always has been, and probably always will. Astoria wishes her parents didn't match Daphne with Theo, then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be alone).

"You haven't been listening." Daphne says; no judgements, no inflections. She would've had Astoria's title if it weren't for Theo; a waste of potential.

Astoria sighs, smiling a little. "You caught me, but who would? I mean, I'd listen to your very detailed discussion of the Hogwarts infirmary, but maybe when Scorpius is a little older."

"Pay attention to the things that matter?" Daphne asks, only not really because she already knows the answer. She used to be like that; only listening to the things that will concern her, but she's not anymore.

Astoria thinks it's because she has been exposed to the muggles far too long. Daphne says it's because she's been exposed to reality, finally.

She doesn't know which to believe.

"Well, yeah." Astoria says, simply because she doesn't know what to answer. Daphne wasn't the same anymore; she still is Daphne Greengrass, embodiment of perfection at everything she does, whether it'd be Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, or the pure blood society, but at the same time, she isn't.

Somewhere between the day she married Theodore Nott and today, she changed, and Astoria has been having lunch with her weekly for years now and she just noticed this.

What else will she notice?

"DAAAAAAAAAPHY!" She heard a yell, about to ask around on whose child was it and would they please control it, she sees a mop of unruly black hair crash into Daphne's outstretched arms.

_outstretched arms?_ Since when did Daphne ever willingly hugged a child? More so, since when did she let anyone call her Daphy? Even Scorpius had to muster the correct pronunciation of her name before she let him come near her.

"I missed you, Daphy." The child says into Daphne's shoulder, sort of like how Scorpius would do to Draco when he's been gone far too long.

"I know, little Kavik, I know." Daphne tells the boy, tilting her wand a bit. If Astoria would be any other person, she would've just let it go as putting it away of the child's reach, but she grew up with Daphne, she doesn't just move her wand lightly.

She must have cast a spell.

"Why weren't you there when papa had his birthday?" The boy says, moving away from Daphne.

Astoria blinks when she sees his features; angular and pale, with messy black hair and steele blue eyes. Greengrass blue eyes.

Astoria gasped, Daphne had a child? What? When? How!? Why was she not informed of this?

Daphne seemed to hear her thoughts as she turns to give her a glare, this makes the child notice her as well.

The child blinks, before turns flush. Embarrassed probably, then he gives her a half bow. An old pure blood custom rarely taught anymore, a sign of giving respect to his elders, but not necessarily his betters.

"I'm sorry to intrude your lunch, Madam Malfoy, but it's just that I haven't seen Miss Greengrass for quite a while that I had my emotions get the best of me." The child says to her, "Please, do accept my most sincere apology."

Astoria looks gobsmacked. Daphne looks proud. The child looks at Daphne and his spirits seem to uplift.

"Astoria, this is Teddy. Teddy, she is my sister, Astoria." Daphne says, her hand on the child's, Teddy's, elbow.

It was as if she were his mother and she was proudly introducing her child.

Astoria opens her mouth, as if wanting to speak but Daphne cuts her off.

"Teddy is the son of an old friend of mine, right?" Daphne asks Teddy with a smile.

Astoria blinks, Daphne looks and seems warm, an impossibility she once thought.

She looks at them and she sees something else.

She doesn't believe this Teddy is a mere 'son of an old friend'.

_**That's bullshit.**_

But, Teddy nods. "Yes, ma'am."

But, Astoria hears, "Yes, mum."

"Papa used to work with Miss Daphy, but he doesn't anymore." Teddy tells her, as if it helps in introducing himself.

But no, it just gives Astoria more doubts upon his parenthood.

"Teddy's also got a special talent." Daphne's tone was of boast, but underneath it was a warning; listen. This is important, Story.

Teddy nods, "Yeah. I'm a metamorphagus like my mother!"

His eyes change colour. Steele blue to forest green to bright yellow to cloudy grey.

Astoria blinks. Okay, that explains some things.

But not a lot.

"Teddy?!" came a frantic shout of a man from down the alley, and Teddy's hair seems to shift from unruly black to bright red for a moment.

"Teddy." Daphne says, only not really, because she's giving him a look that Narcissa usually gives Draco whenever he ignores Scorpius in favour of the Wizengamot.

"I told him I was just going to Floreans' but I saw you."

"Oh, little Kavik, come here." Daphne pulls him into a hug, and Astoria is kind of shocked, again because Daphne does not do hugs. Not especially to little children who are mere 'sons of old friends'.

"I'm sorry."

"Tis okay."

They stay like that for a few seconds and when they let go the man yelling for Teddy was already near hearing range.

Daphne looks at Teddy for a moment, as if she was studying him, memorizing because she might not see him again for a long time.

Then suddenly, Daphne yelled. "POTTER!"

In a flash, Harry Potter, in all his glory stood right next to them. He takes a look at them, immediately going for Daphne but he sees his mini-me standing next to her.

"Teddy," He whispers, as if thanking Merlin he saw the child.

He breathes an audible sigh of relief, before kneeling down and opens his arms. Teddy seems to understand as he circles their dinner table to hug his father.

Astoria was confused, since when did Harry Potter have a child?

"I thought I lost you." was whispered, and it broke Astoria's confusion. It was so heartfelt, like he truly thought he lost Teddy.

She never heard a simple statement uttered like it was a prayer. It made her wonder if ever Draco would ever do that to Scorpius.

Probably not. He'd just say, _'well, took you long enough'_.

She feels her eyes get cloudy, this is not good. (Tears mean acceptance; she isn't ready to accept how things will happen).

"-for interrupting your lunch, Daphne, Madam Malfoy." Harry says, his tone clipped and formal. It unnerves Astoria a bit.

"No mind," Daphne tells him, "I missed the little squirt."

Harry opens his mouth to say something but Daphne dazzles him a smile; one of her full blown, heartfelt smiles that crinkle her eyes.

Astoria only received that smile once, when she was seven and flew a broom better than her.

She kind of envies that Harry Potter seems to be a regular recipient of it; judging by the lopsided grin he sent her way.

"It's cause you missed my birthday, right pal?"

"Yeah!"

Daphne laughs at them, "Sorry, but I had a shift at the pediatrics ward that time."

"You're always like that, Daph," Harry teases.

"Please, Haz," Daphne rolls her eyes.

Astoria blinks again. (She's been doing that a lot today). Daph? Haz? What? Since when did Daphne okay shortening her name? And since when did Daphne had banter with Potter?

Is she missing something here?

She must have spaced out because the next thing she knew Daphne already paid the bill.

"What?" she says.

"Hush, now Story." Daphne replies, telling her that whatever happened today will be the most she'll ever hear about it.

"Don't hush me, Daphne. What was that about?" she demands her sister, because this is ground breaking news. Daphne's showing interest in another man again, and a proper gentleman at that.

"Nothing, Astoria." she replies again, her tone closed off and melodic. Astoria knew she'd get nothing out of her now.

"Fine, don't tell me." Astoria huffs, standing up. "It's not like you don't tell me anything of importance."

Daphne chuckles at her statement, "Oh, sweetheart." she says as she kisses Astoria's cheek before she walks away from the restaurant.

Astoria wants to rip her hair off at the way her sister is acting; it's like she's ten again and is too little to play with her and Tracey.

She's grown up now; married and all.

But somehow, that doesn't comfort her one bit.

So, she leaves the restaurant and heads home. Maybe Draco would want to host a dinner party sometime this week.

* * *

Likes and follows are cool, but reviews are better. It gives me a thought on what I'm doing right. So, please do review.

Also, if you'd like a scene from their relationship or a POV prompt, just comment it on a review and I'll do my best on fulfilling that.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Papa is an idiot

Chapter Title: Papa is an Idiot.  
Timeframe: Easter Holidays of 2011  
Characters Involved: Teddy Lupin and Harry Potter (Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, and Lisa Turpin mentioned)  
Point of View: Teddy, third person limited.  
Notes: Rushed this little bunny in between airport breaks and paper writing. I hope you'll enjoy it. Also, if you have questions regarding this 'verse, don't hesitate to PM me!  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

Teddy knew his Papa was a bit dim, he was a Gryffindor, it was expected (Hermione Granger, not withstanding). But he never thought he'd be a complete idiot.

Life just threw him a lemon.

(Somehow, he doesn't know how to make lemonade from this.)

Papa was getting married.

And not to Miss Daphy.

This was unexpected.

"Wait, wait," Teddy tells Harry Potter, his hands clenching the dark gold tablecloth (it was a compromise, he wasn't going to live in a Gryffindor themed house). "What do you mean you're getting married to Aunt Gin?"

Teddy doesn't know how to handle this. He was a Ravenclaw for Merlin's sake, they aren't the best examples of emotional durability! (Take Aunt Luna for example, that woman is just whack).

"What about Miss Daphy?" He followed up, because no, dammit. His plan of getting Miss Daphy to be his mum will not be ruined by one of his papa's stupid ideas.

"Ted," Harry says, as if he was disappointed by Teddy's words.

Serves you right, old man. Teddy thinks, because he does. He is an idiot and Aunt Gin isn't that right for him.

She doesn't make Papa wake during Sundays to make the special Sunday breakfast pancakes or watch Doctor Who on the telly Papa installed in the sitting room because of a simple snide comment or call him little Kavik and understand all his quirks and nightmares and tendencies to branch out.

Aunt Gin is awesome, okay. She's the star chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, MVP for the past three seasons, billed as the best female Quidditch player in the past decade and has a mean left hook that Uncle Ron always complains about.

But she doesn't understand the sentiment of Harry Potter.

She never has.

She was a good distraction for papa, yes, but that's all she is.

She can't hold his attention for more than a minute if he has a case.

And she nags.

Miss Daphy isn't like that.

She leaves people be, and if she needs something to change, she creates circumstances to pull it off. (But more than often, she simply asks, but that is neither here nor there).

Also, she never treated Teddy like a child. (Unlike all the other grown women in his life).

"Why?" Teddy asks, his voice not betraying the whirlwind of thoughts, but his hair does, it's shifting between straight to curly to unruly to fizzy.

To the untrained eye, it might as well be the wind blowing.

(But Harry Potter raised him since Nana Andy died, and before that he was the man-who-conquered. He notices a lot of things, but not all things).

He sees Harry lean back in his chair, his hand adjusting the frame of his glasses (Raybans now, Miss Daphy got it for him three Christmases ago). He's confident, 'in his zone' Aunt Hermione calls it, it's like he's in Mungo's or in the air, like nothing could do him wrong.

"I love her," Harry simply tells Teddy. It was truth, unadulterated and unblemished.

Teddy disbelieves it for a second.

But then he realises, this is Harry Potter he's talking to. If he asks him if he loves the guy who made his entire life hell, he'd probably say yes too.

So, Teddy rephrased the given statement, "You in love with her?"

Simple, succinct, and enough to make Harry squirm for a moment before in seat. Teddy felt proud, it was confirmation enough.

"Yes," Harry tells him, but Teddy can't be bothered to believe the explanation coming after.

Hesitation is equal to confirmation, Miss Daphy used to tell him when ever she caught a pesky little canine stealing her pastries. (She knew everything, but she didn't push it down his throat like the word of god. It's what made her likeable).

"-understands me." was the only bit of phrase Teddy caught.

Harry somehow misses this.

Teddy feels thankful for small mercies.

"But she's not the only one that does," Teddy says.

"But she's the only one that should," Harry tells him.

Teddy's eyes widen, and it feels like a ton of bricks hit him in the head.

His papa is truly a colossal idiot.

It's a wonder on how he became the youngest chief of a medical department at St. Mungos or even lived long enough to be the Man-who-Conquered.

Then again, Papa had Miss Daphy at Mungo's and Aunt Hermione at Hogwarts so its not much of a surprise really.

But still.

Harry Potter is an idiot.

This makes Teddy Lupin want to laugh.

(But he doesn't, this isn't the time nor place for that sort of behaviour).

So, he settles for something less. "Papa, you're an idiot."

Harry smirks, giving him a conspiratorial gleam. "That is why I'm getting married."

"I don't think you should realize that until after the ceremony," Teddy says.

"Nope, no ceremony. "

"What!? So you're just gonna read the Banns and off you go?" Teddy asks, concerned. Harry Potter does not do traditional, nor does he simply follow the rules. The Reading of the Banns is one of the most traditional aspects of wizarding marriage, hell, it is the wizarding marriage.

It combines not only the assets or the lives of the couple in question, but also their magic and soul.

There is a reason Wizarding society does not have a legal procedure for divorce nor annulment.

It simply won't happen.

Magic has a way of making sure of it.

Now, Harry Potter would be entering it two feet in.

Teddy feels light-headed, not only will his papa not marry his surrogate mother but do a traditional marriage.

This is not good. (And absolutely distracting, he has a thirteen inch essay on the History of the Fidelus Charm for DADA and he's being bothered on how to save his father's life).

"Nope." Harry replies.

"Nope, what?" Teddy says distractedly, he was off to his mind palace again. Trying to find a clue on how to change his papa's mind on the Banns thingy. It simply won't do. (Also, its a one time thing. If you don't like the other person you did it with, sorry, but you're stuck with them forever. See: Uncle Seamus and Aunt Lisa).

"Nope on the Banns, little Kavik."

"Then how the hell will you get married?" Teddy is a bit confused now, because Harry said there will be no ceremony so that meant a simple reading, but then he says no to that as well, so how in Merlin's name?

"Muggle Courthouse."

"Oh."

And it was like the skies opened in all its glory. Muggle weddings have no sway whatsoever in the Wizarding World; it's a mere statement.

There will be no financial tie ups, no magical bondings, and best of all, no outright recognition on Wizengamot court.

Teddy takes back whatever he said about his papa being a colossal idiot. (He still thinks Harry is an idiot, just not a colossal one anymore).

"Why?"

"As you said, I'm an idiot, little Kavik."

There's that moniker and somehow, this wasn't his papa comforting him.

He smiles.

Teddy Lupin still thinks his papa, Harry Potter is an idiot, but now, he could write the DADA essay without wanting to rip the entire library to shreds.

Thank Merlin his father has smart women to keep him grounded.

* * *

Please do review, it would be a big help on my writing and how this story will progress.  
Thankyou!


	5. A Lesson on History

Chapter Title: A Lesson in History  
Timeframe: May of 2011  
Characters Involved: Minerva McGonagall and Daphne Greengrass (Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, James Potter, Lily Evans, Dorea Potter nee Black, Charlus Potter, Poppy Pomfrey, Lisa Turpin, Theodore Nott, Filius Flitwick mentioned)  
Point of View: Minerva McGonagall, third person limited.  
Notes: This is written in lieu of a societal history rather than a character narrative, since I received a question on the why's of society. :) Hope you like it. :D  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

It has been said that every man grows up to marry his own mother; that his chosen life partner would most reflect the woman who raised him.

Familiarity breeds complacency. (Because, for wizarding society tradition is not a mere bylaw but rather, it is the law. There is a reason why they still resemble Robin Hood more than James Bond).

So when Harry Potter married Ginevra Weasley in a muggle ceremony, it didn't surprise Minerva McGonagall one bit.

James Potter did the same with Lily Evans near thirty three years ago.

Forsaking his heritage, his name, and the rest of his family; it was expected. He was the only son of Dorea Potter (nee Black), no amount of Charlus Potter's intervention would stop her from teaching the scion of the Noble House of Potter how to not care about the rules, and if possible break them in the most brilliant of manners.

(There was a reason Dorea was a Ravenclaw and not a Slytherin like the rest of her family or why she married Charlus Potter instead of Phillip Rosier).

Minerva thought Harry would do the same; leave Hogwarts with a bang, go into the Auror force, become one of the most promising of trainees, and do whatever he wants with his life.

But, not even a week after the Potter-Weasley nuptials, she receives a copy of the International Magical Tribune featuring an article that makes her head spin.

_**Changing of Tides: Harry Potter Formally Claims Family Inheritances**_  
_by Lauren Cornelissen_

**GENEVA** — Harry James Potter (29) has claimed the Potter and Black inheritances in the Gringotts Main Branch in Zurich yesterday. Hornsnuff, the Press Secretary for Gringotts Zurich said that the Man-who-Conquered has finally paid homage to the filial tradition of his ancestors by honoring and accepting the inheritance passed upon him. Furthermore, in a brief statement, Hornsnuff elaborated that the Duke of Pembroke would value his privacy as he sorts through the past thirty-five years of archived histories of both the Potter and Black families; and as such no further information will be given to the press unless otherwise stated.

_For the full story, see section 1.3_  
_For more information on the repercussions on the British Empire, see section 3.2_  
_For more information on Harry Potter, see section 3.4_  
_For more information on the Noble House of Potter, see section 8.4_  
_For more information on the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, see section 8.5_

It was vague at best and if Minerva didn't know better she'd leave it be.

Most of her old students had claimed their family inheritances and she didn't even bat an eyelash.

(But none of them were Harry Potter, now official Head of the House of the Noble House of Potter and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He controls an estimate of thirteen families under each, and most of them extinct and titled).

Harry Potter is now the most powerful man in the Magical Commonwealth, both magically and politically and if she guesses, economically as well.

She wonders on what Molly Weasley feels about this.

Her only daughter married a Wizengamot Lord, that means propriety and traditions and customs, something that the Weasley temper isn't famous for.

Merlin, it isn't even something the Potter temper is famous for.

(Though, if she'd think about it, it certainly is something the Blacks were notorious for.)

"Headmistress McGonagall?"

A voice pulled her out of her thoughts, she looks up from the paper she was reading.

It was Daphne Greengrass, the new matron of the Hogwarts infirmary. She replaced Poppy almost three years ago, and Poppy was ecstatic about it; muttering about someone finally competent enough to replace her in her duties.

Miss Greengrass had apparently been the best pediatric specialist that St. Mungo's has produced in the past four decades. (Being a potions mistress isn't bad as well, it cuts the cost of buying medical grade potions that their current potions professor doesn't have clearance to brew).

"Yes, Daphne?" She says, gesturing for the woman to sit.

She does, choosing the armchair by the left. The signs of pureblood upbringing and years of manner training were evident in the simple action that she made.

It brought back a rumour she heard from a long time ago.

"I would like to request for a leave of absence; a family emergency came up." Daphne says, a tad hesitant. "I have already coordinated with St. Mungo's, and they're willing to loan out Lisa Finnegan for the time being."

Minerva nods, family emergencies in the upper tiers of society were rare and if it warrants for an unspecified time, it's usually something ground breaking.

"Make sure that Madam Finnegan would be well aware on how the infirmary operates and coordinate her schedule of arrival with Argus."

"I would, Headmistress," Daphne says, standing up. "Thank you for understanding, Minerva."

"Of course," She replies, returning her attention to the paper she was reading before.

Daphne takes it as a sign of dismissal and hurriedly walks out of the room.

_Odd_, Minerva thinks, in all the years she has known the blonde healer, she had never been so candid in her unease. It must be some family emergency.

Then, Minerva stops. _A family emergency?_

She furrows her brows, but Daphne has been all but disowned by the House of Greengrass. It was all over the papers ten years ago.

Nott had allegedly committed marital rape and Daphne, unwilling to bend to his will filed a petition for annulment in the Wizengamot court.

Annulment or even divorce, in the Wizarding world was unheard of. Especially in the pureblood families where women are mere trophies for their husbands to display. Filing a rape charge and an annulment caused the Prophet to have a field day.

The Wizengamot tried the case, and it was ruled in favour of Nott. Since they were wed in the traditional reading of the Banns and underwent a magical binding; anything Theodore would do to her would be deemed acceptable in the eyes of the law.

Daphne thought otherwise, as she performed a category five ritual in the Forest of Dean and broke the bindings on her and Theodore's life and magic.

She was labelled as an outcast and a bloodtraitor. Theodore was reduced to a squib.

Minerva thinks that it was a fair deal; since being a squib is considered as a lower class than house elf.

But then, this brings her to a question. Why did Daphne lie to her in arranging a leave of absence?

She was about to stand up and chase after the former Slytherin but then the stray thought from a few minutes ago returns with a vengeance.

The rumour from long ago; it was something Filius said to her in passing, easily forgotten and not worth anything but a good laugh. It circulated among the staff that Harry Potter had taken to fancy the company of a former Slytherin Princess.

It was dismissed as a mere rumour, since most of the Slytherins that were near his age group were either a marked death eater or already married.

They forgot to take into account the infamous Ice Queen.

Minerva tries to swallow her thoughts on the matter; this does not concern her. She will have nothing to say on this matter.

She steels herself into believing that.

She almost succeeds.

"Daphne?" She calls, running out of her office.

* * *

Please do review and comment your thoughts on this chapter and on my writing.  
Thank you!


	6. SIDE A: She sings

Chapter Title: She Sings  
Timeframe: May of 2011  
Characters Involved: Daphne Greengrass and Harry Potter (Mentions of Teddy Lupin, Adrian Pucey, Theodore Nott, Lisa Turpin, Tracey Davis, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley)  
Point of View: Daphne, third person limited.  
Notes: Not all fairy tales end in happy endings, but maybe this one will. This vignette is a more telly kind of writing than a showy one? Hahaha, this is how Daphne thinks, so if its confusing sorry. :( Send me a review and I'll work on it or clarify it for you. :D  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

**SIDE A: SHE SINGS**

* * *

Sometimes, she sings.

She climbs on rooftops and apparates on top of buildings and smokes muggle cigarettes outside karaoke bars and hums. She hums under her breath a tune that's been stuck inside her head that's been clawing to get out.

(Even the Ice Queen has her limits. Instinct rules all of us at the end of the day).

Sometimes, she sings it aloud.

But usually, she doesn't.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The first time Daphne sings aloud was when she was three; it was a ritual hymn sang during Samhain by the elder witches at Stonehenge. She didn't even know what she was doing but when she caught the melody she joined in.

Her mother was ashamed of her, ordering her to sit down and keep quiet.

One of the elders thought otherwise.

(It was the first time she tasted independence as well; she'd call it exhilarating if she knew that word then).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

She's in Roma right now, with a bottle of firewhiskey and a brilliant view of the Fontana de Trevi.

(She likes to call places by their actual names; it seems a bit more respectful).

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the fountain, a couple dozen muggle quarters in her hands.

It has been said that if one tosses a coin into the water they'll be granted a wish (or maybe Harry was the one that said that, it doesn't matter).

She wishes for a lot of things and she knows none of them will come true.

She steps down from her perch, wobbly and unsure of her steps, and tosses one coin for each wish.

(She throws twenty one coins, three for each wish, so even if the mere belief in the act won't work, then maybe magic will).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

On the day that Daphne learned to finally take control of her life, she sang Spem in Alium in the middle of the busy London streets. It was hot and crowded and she sang with all her might.

That was ten years ago, she was lost and confused and unsure of what to do.

(A lot like what she's feeling now).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

She stumbles back into her seat, half drunk and on precariously tall Louboutin shoes that Harry gave her a few months back. It pinches her toes and cramps the balls of her feet, but if paired with the right skirt it makes her legs look impossibly long and boys stare at her back.

Harry had always been fond of her back.

She's caught him staring at it way too many times to count.

Also, it's made out of snake skin.

She wears it as an homage to her past.

That's what she's telling people anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There was a time when the past was all that mattered to her; geneology and family and names and assets and lineage.

That was a long time ago.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Daphne Greengrass is blonde, beautiful, and clever. She graduated near top of her class at Hogwarts and has achieved nine NEWT level courses; she's also a certified Potions Mistress and is known to be one of the best Healer Specialists in the Magical Commonwealth today.

She is also alone.

She doesn't know which defines her more.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Being alone used to be a blessing, with the trolls in the Slytherin dungeon and the majority of the male population at Hogwarts who think a woman like her is nothing more than mere animal to be owned and dominated.

Tracey was the first one to break the shell. Theo came next.

She thought she'd be happy.

But Tracey died in the war and Theo saw too much that it changed him.

It scared Daphne more than anything, so she did the only thing she could've done.

She was shunned because of it.

She was left alone again.

(Sometimes, the victim turns into the monster because the monster couldn't handle what it throws).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The past is nothing but a reminder. Sort of like a scar, only at the same time sort of not.

It gets more confusing the more she tries to explain, so in the end she'd rather not.

Everyone's better making their own stories, do they not?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Daphne is good at being alone, almost as good as she does controlling her feelings.

Both of which she's now bad at since Harry Potter came into her life and refused to leave.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"I'm not good enough for you," Daphne tells him. "What part of that do you not understand?"

Harry smirks at her and says, "Well, that's not for you to decide."

Daphne was about to protest when Harry's lips seize her own. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her closer, she forgets what she's trying to say and savours the taste of recklessness that Potter has.

He's gotten quite good in getting her to stop her from voicing those kind of thoughts.

But even still, it doesn't stop her from continuously thinking them.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They first met in a potions classroom in Hogwarts where Snape assigned them as partners. Daphne ignored him and Harry wasted potions ingredients and singed his clothes; Snape never assigned them together again.

They never encountered each other in Hogwarts ever again as well.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Its funny on how they never crossed paths in a place where they're locked up ten months out of a year and a student body less than five hundred.

It was like fate.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The second time they met was during the Healer orientation at St. Mungo's. They were both twenty one, unsure of the world, and stuck in a place where almost everybody expects them to fail.

"Kindred spirits," Harry says.

"Coincidence," Daphne replies.

It doesn't matter which is which, because in the end they were stuck with each other and three other people; Adrian Pucey, Lisa Turpin, and Harper Delano.

Those three hardly matter to the story that is Harry and Daphne though; Adrian's just a thorn in Harry's rise to become one of the best trauma specialists in the world, Lisa is their mother hen who forces them to eat, sleep, and act like a normal human being instead of soulless puzzle solvers that they are, and Harper is Harper.

He quit three weeks into the program.

No one knew why.

(Daphne thinks Harry scared him off. Harry thinks Daphne scared him off. They're both wrong).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Daphne Greengrass was never supposed to be with Harry Potter; just like Harry Potter was never supposed to be with Daphne Greengrass.

Fate made sure of that.

Destiny has other plans.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The first time Daphne sang for another person was during Harry's twenty second birthday. She sang him a happy birthday and baked him a cake.

Harry's got a grin on his face that wouldn't come off and she got to meet Teddy.

Daphne found him charming. Teddy found her pretty.

Harry said to both of them that it was his day, and only he could be charming and pretty.

They both laughed at him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They delved into routine and that routine delved into something else. Daphne learned to be a muggle and Harry learned the ins and outs of the Wizengamot and they both took care of Teddy.

They were all each other has now, the only ones that could understand on what the hell is going on, the only ones that could empathize and sympathize and nod and leave be.

(That wasn't true; Harry still had Ron and Hermione but they we're too busy with the ministry and starting their own family and Daphne had her sister with whom she has brunch with).

It was a good thing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

But with all good things, it had come to an end.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was November and it was cold.

That was all Daphne could remember from all the tears and screams and kisses and promises that had been done.

(It's a lie. She could remember that day far too well).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Now, a mere six months later, Harry's married to someone else.

She was the one that pushed him to rekindle a failed romance with Ginny Weasley. She was the one that orchestrated the subtle switches of scents and put on reminders of the ginger chaserand societal pressure and upping the usage of 'Teddy needing a more stable mother figure'.

She's never been more angry at herself.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

She downs the rest of the bottle and stands on her feet, swaying dangerously on the marble edge.

Daphne has always put the thoughts of other people before her own happiness, its part of the reason why she thinks she's such a sorrowful excuse for a witch. Every time she follows her own instincts its always results in the apocalypse.

Right now though, she doesn't give a fuck.

Harry's married. She's alone.

It's the scariest thing in the world.

Then, she sings.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The storms are raging on the rollin' sea  
And on the highway of regrets  
The winds of change are blowing wild and free  
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

She's singing an old muggle tune in the middle of Roma at three in the morning. A couple of tourists are in the corner making out, a kid is probably filming her rendition of an old melody, and she could hear clapping.

When she sings the last line, Daphne's knees give up supporting her and she thinks she's going to crash into the pavement.

Only she doesn't.

When she opens her eyes, she sees looks into the eyes of her saviour.

_Avada Green._

She gasps and stumbles into her feet and hugs him with all her might, muttering his name like a prayer.

"It's alright," Daphne hears Harry say. "I'm here, Daph. I'll catch you."

* * *

To be continued on SIDE B: He plans.  
Hope you liked it, please do review. :)


	7. INTERLUDE: Snapshots

Chapter Title: INTERLUDE: Snapshots  
Timeframe: Various  
Characters Involved: Daphne Greengrass and Harry Potter (Teddy Lupin, mentioned)  
Point of View:  
Notes: Three songs, three snapshots on Harry and Daphne's relationship. This was supposed to be the SIDE B: He plans update, but a friend has forced me into writing a bunch of scenes featuring Harry and Daphne's romantic relationship, apparently she feels like it's been stolen from her since this is a romance story with the two romantic leads only having one solo scene. Soooo, yeah. I'll post the Side B thingy tomorrow or the next day. Enjoy. :)  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

**Emotionally Yours [Bob Dylan]**

* * *

Stumbling out of the apprentice halls, Harry grabs into Daphne as he apparates the both of them out of St. Mungo's.

Daphne lands with a yelp. Harry lands on his back.

They're lucky that they're in Harry's house, else they'd both be nursing the death of their public personas.

"Never doing a seventy two hour shift again," Harry tells the blonde woman leaning on the corner wall.

Daphne replies with a snort, "The next shift you'll pick up will last ninety six."

Harry doesn't bother to reply, he knows she's right.

He feels her sit down next to him, leaning against the wall under the portrait of Walburga Black (finally silenced, thank merlin), and he adjusts his position so his head is on her lap.

Daphne seems to understand what he's implying; Harry closes his eyes to the feeling of Daphne's fingers playing with his hair.

He hums in contentment.

"You're the best healer ever," he tells her, now Harry might be a bit biased, but who cares.

"You're only saying that cause I'm the only one that would play with your hair," she says with a laugh.

(It's the truest and falsest statement Daphne ever uttered in her entire life, but then again, oxymorons were never her specialty so, whatever).

"Nope, you're the best," Harry says, "Better than Pomfrey, even."

Daphne's fingers stop for a second, but then they're back to softly playing the Moonlight Sonata on his scalp.

Harry seemed to notice, but before he could comment, Daphne beat him to it. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she says, "Half arsed or not."

Harry's eyes snap open, his eyes focusing on hers.

(They're shiny, Harry couldn't think of anything more beautiful than Daphne looking about to cry. He doesn't know if he'll say that out loud now, or ever, but its true.

It's the first time he realised he's truly deeply in love with her).

"Marry me?" he whispers.

Her eyes widen the same time as his does, he doesn't know why he just said that, he doesn't even know how he said it.

(Later, he'd realise he does. If you find the woman you'd want to spend the entirety of your life with, through the good, the bad, the fucking ugly, and accepts you the way you are with all your flaws and weaknesses and every single colour and shade of your sins, you'd want them with you forever. And marriage guarantees forever.

Or at least, it used to.)

"Haz," Daphne says, her eyes shifting from steele blue to cloudy grey.

Harry realises he made a mistake.

He sits up and kneels in front of her, one hand cupping her cheek and the other on the wall behind her. He wants to apologise, tell her he didn't mean it, that it was a mistake, that he was caught up in her beauty, that he was being an idiot, that he's Harry Potter and she shouldn't take what the hell he says seriously.

But he doesn't, because if he does, then he's lying to himself.

And Harry Potter is anything but a liar.

**_I must not tell lies._**

He has that branded on the back of his hand.

"I meant it," Harry tells her, "I don't have a ring right now and I don't have a speech prepared, but I love you and I just realised it and I want you with me, here, forever."

Harry's voice is cracking and Daphne's got tears running down her face, and by god, she's more beautiful than ever.

"Harry," she says, "Harry, Harry, Harry."

Daphne keeps repeating his name, as if she's torn between telling him off and proud, he doesn't know which is which, but when she crashes her lips into his, Harry thinks he's got the answer.

Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling her off the floor and closer to him. He copies her motion with his arms on her waist pulling her to him, and ignoring the silenced shrieks of the portraits above.

It tastes of love and understanding and despair and want and need and everything else that they feel. It tastes of ice and coffee and loneliness and it tastes of passion and treacle and recklessness.

Its perfect (only, it's not).

When they separate, Daphne leans against him. They're in the centre of the entrance hall, limbs entangled and entwined, its impossible to know where one would begin and the other would end.

"I'll always be yours," she tells him, "Emotionally, physically, psychologically, I am yours, Harry Potter, don't doubt that."

Harry pulls her in tighter, "But?"

Daphne waits for a beat, "But, I'm Daphne Greengrass, and you're Harry Potter, the Wizarding World would never agree."

"Who cares what they think?" Harry says, his voice even, he can't lose his temper now, no, he needs to listen, maybe she'd say yes, she's only telling him the things he'd need to be careful of.

She'd always been like that; make him feel stupid, then make him think, then make him seem like he's the smartest person in the world.

It's one of the reasons he loves her, really.

"I do," she whispered. "I'm not Andromeda Black, Haz, I'm not strong enough to go through what society will throw. I'm not."

She hides her face into the crook of his neck, she hates feeling weak. Harry knows this. She'd be a hundred different things but weak.

She couldn't handle it, wouldn't be able to.

He feels like an ass.

(It wouldn't be the first time).

* * *

**Everlasting Love [U2]**

* * *

"Hey, Haz?" Daphne asks over the kitchen counter. She's waiting for the special sunday pancakes Harry makes for Teddy, only today, Teddy slept over with his classmate's house.

Harry says it's because Teddy needs to be developed holistically and enrolling him in the muggle school in Islington would do that. Andromeda agrees with him. Daphne thinks Teddy's lucky his guardians are too muggle dependent.

But, if she had a child, Daphne thinks she'd enroll him in an independent muggle school too.

(It'll build their character better than being cooped up in a country manor with only elves and horses and annoying little sisters as company).

"Yeah?" Harry says, half his attention focused on flipping pancakes and half of the skinny blonde t-shirt stealer. (He always calls her that, but only during mornings and only when they're alone).

"You love me, right?" Daphne says, her hands tapping the marble top. (She has noisy hands, years and years of piano lessons would do that to you).

Harry stops what he's doing and turns off the stove. (He's a natural in the kitchen, he should have gone culinary instead of medicine, he'd be better off). He turns to look at her, his face examining hers.

She feels exposed, more exposed than normal, so she ducks her head.

Harry thinks otherwise, so he gently grips her chin to make her look at him.

An unsure steele blue meets a searching avada green; this wasn't the first time she asked that question, this isn't the first time he'll answer the same.

"What brought this on?" he asks, because Daphne is never unsure and is never vocal, and on the rare times that she is, Harry feels like he might need to burn someone.

Leaning her forehead to his, Daphne sighs and closes her eyes. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Daphne feels his foot tap, impatience, disbelief. Harry clicks the roof of his mouth in response.

"That's not nothing Daph," he says.

"Well, maybe it is Haz," she replies.

"You don't just ask questions you know the answers to," he adds, ignoring her reply.

Daphne takes a breath, her hands on his shoulders. "Well, maybe I don't know the answer."

Harry didn't even need to think of a response, as he wraps one of his arms around her and pulls her for a kiss.

Morning breath be damned. Pancakes will be forgotten. Questions about love will no longer be heard.

Daphne has her answer, she doesn't need words to confirm it. Harry's always been a man of action anyway.

* * *

**Drunk [Ed Sheeran]**

* * *

A bright flash of light wakes Harry from his drunken stupor, he was about to yell at whoever tried to disturb his private time but his sheets suddenly vanished and he was dangling from the ceiling.

He tried to shout, but he found out he was silenced.

He squints his eyes at the figure who had the audacity to use magic against him and wake him up, but when the figure has floated his glasses to him, she suddenly started shouting.

"What the hell we're you thinking, Potter?!" Daphne yelled, her voice hoarse, as if she just woke up or just finished crying. "Did you know Teddy came crashing into my flat at three in the morning? Because he was afraid his papa was dead!? Did you know the heart attack that gave me?! The scare it gave Teddy!?"

Harry summoned is Holly wand, but found it at the hands of the blonde hag, so he summoned his other wand.

The eerie white glow of the elder wand stopped Daphne midrant, but then she wasn't deemed as the best pediatric healer for nothing.

"Expelliarmus!"

The elder wand changed directions, but Harry's hand was faster he grabbed it midway to Daphne's open palm and cast the counter for the levicorpus hex he's under.

He crashes into the bed and Daphne sends a multitude of pain hexes his way.

Hell hath no mother whose child was frightened.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Harry yells over the edge of the bed; he apparently crashed into the floor in dodging the piercing hex Daphne tried to throw at his crotch.

"You're sorry!? For what?! For scaring Teddy?! For making him floo to my flat at the middle of the night!? For drinking all night?! For being a drunk ass who passed out leaving your son, your seven year old son, alone in a house that runs on both magic and electricity?!" Daphne yelled at him, her wand still throwing hexes and curses at the cowering hero.

"What do you think that would've happened to him?! If he didn't know my floo address, what do you think?!" she asked, "What Harry?!"

"I don't know!" Harry yelled, fed up. A bright blue shield charm protecting his body, "Okay, I get it! I'm an irresponsible bastard who shouldn't be entrusted with a child! I get it, Daph! You don't have to rub it in! Merlin, woman."

Harry slumps his shoulders, flopping over to the bed. "I get it. I'm a self-centered prat," he sighs into the pillow, "How is he, anywho?"

Daphne sighs, sliding her wand into its holster and puts his on the nightstand, "He's okay, finally stopped crying after we watched the Little Mermaid for the millionth time."

Harry hums, "He always loved that movie."

"Yeah, I could quote it word for word now." Daphne tells him.

Time stills for a moment, Harry curled up in the edge of his bed and Daphne standing on the other; they looked like they both went through hell.

(That statement couldn't be anymore truer; one getting over being rejected by the same woman for the ninth time, the other for calming a hysterical metamorphagus whose only sense of calm and tranquility was a bunch of Disney movies and Captain Crunch).

"Why are you doing this, Haz?" Daphne sounds resigned, "It's not like my answer will change nor will our relationship, why do you go through this phase every time you propose?"

This makes Harry snap, "Because, Daph! Because every time I see Ron and Hermione, or Draco and Astoria, or Lisa and Seamus, or Padma and Blaise, or even, merlinfreaking Adrian and Penelope, I get jealous! I want what they have, and I can't."

"They can yell though the world that they're in love, and they've got the oaths, and the records, and the insurance, to prove it." Harry says, standing on top of the bed. He must have risen in the middle of his rant, "They could kiss in the middle of Diagon Alley and not get a fucking backlash or could have children together, or I don't know, have mortgages!"

Daphne looks at him, and Harry feels the seconds tick by. It seems tequila and scotch make his tongue a bit lose, "Do you really mean all of that?"

"Every word."

Daphne jumps him, both of them falling into the floor in a loud thump. Mouths were meeting and hands were roaming and clothes are getting torn and teeth grazes their necks and they dance a dance they've danced a million times before.

It takes them an hour and the room is reeking of their scent, it makes Harry grin like a loon and Daphne light up the entire room.

"I can't do any of what you said earlier, but I can do this." Daphne tells him, "I guess we could call it quits, then?"

"In your wildest dreams, Greengrass." Harry responds as he tops her once more.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it!  
Please review. (the more i get, the faster i could write the next vignette)


	8. SIDE B: He plans

Chapter Title: SIDE B: He plans  
Timeframe: May of 2011  
Characters Involved: Daphne Greengrass and Harry Potter (Ginny Weasley, Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley, Teddy Lupin, mentioned)  
Point of View: Harry Potter, third person limited.  
Notes: Okay, this was supposed to be up last friday, but it was Valentines and I was busy busy. Anywho, sorry for making you guys wait. If you guys have anything to say, mention, question, or just I don't know, bash? Just leave me a review or send me a PM.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents is owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

**SIDE B: HE PLANS**

* * *

If you know Harry Potter, then you know a fixed schedule, a plan, or some semblance of control would not exist in his line of work; he runs on instincts and gut feels and hunches and harsh whispers of the wind, he doesn't do logic.

(Or at least, he doesn't anymore.

He used to, back when he was just Harry, the little boy under the stairs: he follows a schedule to not upset Aunt Petunia, he plans routes and makeshift directions to get ahead of Dudley when he's off Harry hunting, and he ignores hunches and harsh whispers and the bad gossip that runs the suburbs of Privet Drive.

That was a long time ago, the recklessness of Gryffindor led him to forget and the impetuousness of youth made sure it remained forgotten).

But then he met Daphne Greengrass and it made him both careful and reckless and precise and impetuous and smoke muggle cigarettes and drink whiskey and follow rules and lead people in a way that made him run on instinct.

He loved it, he loved every single second of it, and if he's being honest with himself, he still loves it.

But he can't.

He knows he can't.

He's married now.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Harry married Ginny Weasley four months after they resumed dating, three weeks after he told Teddy, and six months after he broke it off with Daphne Greengrass, permanently.

It was a small muggle ceremony in a garden in the middle of London that made them sign contracts in black ink and filed under the British Empire rather than a sacred circle in Wiltshire or a grand Cathedral in Rome that forces them to bind their magic and sign in blood.

No, it was simple, beautiful. The bride wore white, and Harry wore a summer suit.

He smiled in all his pictures and he felt a tear prickle the corner of his eye when Ginny walked down the aisle.

But the thunderous heartbeat nor the sweaty palms never did come.

Nor did the scent of tulips and cinnamon.

At that exact moment, Harry knew he was making a mistake.

But he knew when to let an act carry on and when to continue playing a role, so he dabs his eyes, and pretends he's marrying the love of his life.

(She messed with his head, she pushed him to hard, Harry swears he's never met a being more stubborn than the Ice Queen).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He's been married for a week and he already feels like he needs to break it off.

He's in the middle of his honeymoon for merlin's sake, he shouldn't be like this.

He's made a commitment and he should stick to it; but looking out the balcony, he feels like he shouldn't be seeing the Eiffel, like he should be looking at something else.

Harry's instincts had always lead him to where he needed to be, (but his plans kept him safe, kept him normal), so he flips a coin.

Heads, he'll apparate to where he feels like he should be; tails he'll stay.

(It takes him four glasses of whiskey for him throw the coin).

He looks at the face of a Hungarian Horntail.

He pops out.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Around this time last year, he was in Rome.

All he remembers is eating pizza, driving a Vespa, and a certain Slytherin snorting at the legend of the Trevi Fountain.

Then again, they were only there for three hours, it was a mere stopover before they headed off to Florence.

He barely remembers the rest of the trip, actually.

(His memory is a jumble of different tastes of wine, different colours of paintings, and different positions in bed. It was a right mess.

It's also one of his most treasured memories).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Harry has a whole lot of things he wants to forget and only so few of things he wants to remember.

Most of the things he wants to forget are the things he sees vividly when he closes his eyes at night.

And the things he treasures most in the world are the things he could barely remember.

He thinks its unfair.

(But when has life ever been fair to Harry Potter?).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When he appeared in front of the Trevi, Harry knew something wasn't right.

And when he saw a familiar head of blonde tumble down the fountain edge, he knew he's not drunk enough for this.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

After the war and before he entered Auror training, there was a three month grace period of him doing anything he wanted to do.

He had access to two of the biggest fortunes in Wizarding Britain, a symphony of traumatic experiences, and for the first time in his life, freedom.

(He can't even remember those three months, it was a flash of the Blackjack table of the casinos in Monte Carlo, the Black property in the South of France, and a giggling French witch named Katarina.

He wasn't proud of it).

He learned to out drink sailors and generals and outbid corporate high fliers and business tycoons, he learned to lose a million galleons in one sitting and win a yacht named Alexandria, he learned to brew a hangover cure while still suffering a hangover and he learned how to enjoy life the way it was supposed to be enjoyed.

(He may have channelled Sirius during those days, but he's pretty sure he's gone a long way from the old mutt.

He's oft compared to his mother now, so he thinks he's matured a bit.

(Lie. He's his mother before her seventh year. In denial about everything she feels and blindly follows rules and customs).

He used to be a functioning alcoholic, highly dependent on his chosen substance.

Daphne figured it out and bled him dry for three days, she made sure he wouldn't look at an alcoholic beverage like its an escape for years after.

But she isn't anymore.

He thinks that's a cause to raise a glass (or seven) of Johnnie.

Maybe he should just let it go.

Maybe he shouldn't.

Who cares anyway, nobody notices little problems until they become big and Harry's alcohol tolerance make people question his ancestry.

(Once, he outdrunk an elf and a goblin; it makes him wonder sometimes, if that's the power he knows not).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Harry dives behind her, breaking her fall. He feels the heels of her shoes push against his calves and the mess of her hair in his face.

He thinks of thoughts that shouldn't happen, and he hears her mutter his name.

He looks into her, and he says things he shouldn't have said.

"I'm here, Daph. I'll catch you."

It sounds like a promise he couldn't keep, but will do anyway.

It tastes of sin in his mouth, and suddenly, he hears her sing:

"Wait, they don't love you like I love you,  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you,  
Ma-ah-ah-aps,  
Wait, they don't love me like I love you,  
Wa-eh-eh-ait."

He hasn't heard her sing in public since seven months ago.

Since his last proposal; his forty-eighth failed attempt.

He foolishly thought she had said yes; they were in Mombasa then, a conference on magical and muggle traumatic healing that has Harry on one of the featured speakers due to his new array of spells on stabilisation and cardiovascular focii and he spent a few thousand pounds on making sure on every billboard that they pass there's a huge "Daphne, will you marry me?" written.

She ignored it until they reached their hotel lobby, then she stood in the centre and sang Emotionally Yours.

It was their song and he thought she said yes.

She didn't.

He left her the ring that last time, they broke up permanently twenty one days later.

He hasn't seen her since Christmas and that was when she dropped off Teddy and the elves' presents.

She didn't leave anything for him then.

He kissed Ginny under the mistletoe three hours later.

He doesn't know if she planned the entire thing or if he's just wary of being a strung puppet; he thinks its both.

She always thinks she knows what's best for the both of them.

He thinks she's wrong.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles to the crook of his neck, "I'm sorry Harry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Daphne doesn't even know what she's apologising for now, but she needs to do it. She's made the biggest mistake of her life and she doesn't know what to do and she's losing her mind and she grips her arms around Harry's neck tighter so she wouldn't fall.

Harry responds by simply tightening his grip around her waist.

They're in the middle of Rome, clutching each other like there's no tomorrow. It's reminiscent of their appearance almost eight years ago.

But that's another story, Harry needs to focus on the woman in his arms right now. He needs to stop the wandering thoughts of his alcohol riddled mind.

"I felt a tug," he says, breaking her string of apologies and making her look up. "I was in Paris five minutes ago, and I felt a tug, and I apparated to where it was calling, and-"

"I fell into your arms, right?" Daphne tells him, her voice a bit watery. It makes Harry want to hide her back in Grimmauld Place and take care of her until she's back to her normal self; caustic and precise, cold.

"Yeah," Harry answers, "I think I married the wrong witch."

Daphne laughs at that, but as soon as the beautiful sounds reach Harry's ears it stops and Daphne wrenches herself free of Harry's grip and she titers on her feet before she pulls her left hand back and slaps Harry, hard.

"What the-" Harry reacts, his hand cradling his jaw.

"It's your honeymoon! What are you doing here?!" Daphne yells, only she doesn't.

It's three in the morning and they're in front of a national monument. Fighting in front of them is bad taste.

"Ginny's asleep," he tells her instantly, "She's easily winded and she doesn't care."

Daphne looks at him and narrows her eyes, "So, just because she can't go four rounds in one night, you'd ditch her for a simple tug!?"

Harry shrugs, he doesn't know. "Instincts," he tells her, "They've never lead me wrong."

Daphne slaps him again, "Idiot!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In their relationship, there were five things constant: Harry's proposals (creativity sometimes included), Daphne's humming, their mutual love for Teddy, sex, and slaps.

The first three were a given; sex is something they both enjoy and slaps were there because Harry is an idiot.

But he's Daphne's idiot, so she puts up with him.

Harry loves her, so he puts up with it.

It makes him a better Healer anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Harry doesn't know what happened between the yelling and the slaps and the apologies but the next thing he knew he was kissing Daphne Greengrass.

Her hands were tugging on his shirt and she was biting his bottom lip, and Harry's hands were in a mix of either her breasts and her ribs and the small of her back and her ass and he moans as she nibbles on his lips and he's losing it.

He apparates them to a ruined temple nearby and he pushes her up against the wall and his hand trails below her skirt and traces the her inner thighs and Daphne lets out a moan that makes him twitch.

"I missed you," he tells her in between him trailing kisses on her neck, "I missed this."

She lets out a throaty laugh, "Make up sex in the Foro Romano, you sure know how to please a girl, don't you Potter?"

He doesn't respond, but she gets what he wants to say when she's bucking her hips to his hand and lets her legs grip his waist and moans and groans and begs for release and Harry and please, please, please.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The sun was rising when they started to put on their clothes, or when Daphne steals Harry's shirt because hers got ripped by eager hands and Harry finds his glasses in the edges of the temple because it got hard to see when you don't need to see.

They feel like teenagers that snuck out of their parents' homes; smelling like a mixture of whiskey, sex, and deceit.

It's got nothing on the kids on E4.

"This can't happen again," Daphne tells him, "You're married. I'm a blacklist. We can't."

Harry puts on his raybans, and sighs. "I know."

_But I wish I didn't._

She smiles at him, "And I love what you do, but don't you know that you're toxic?"

He laughs at the line she sang, but before he could respond, she disappears with a pop.

He curses himself.

He should've known better.

No, he does know better.

She just also knows that too.

* * *

Thanks for reading.  
Please review! :)


	9. Slips of Tongue

Chapter title: Slips of Tongue  
Timeframe: 2002  
Characters involved: Lisa Finnegan (nee Turpin), Harry Potter, Daphne Greengrass, Adrian Pucey (Original Characters of Harper Delano, William Paige, Pyotr Ilka) [Mentioned: Danny Finnegan, Lukas Milverton (both original characters)]  
Point of View: Lisa Finnegan (nee Turpin)  
Notes: Sorry for the late update, but life got in the way. :( And RAFan2421, the chapter I promised you will be uploaded sometime later! :)  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its contents are owned by JK Rowling.

* * *

When Lisa Finnegan (then Turpin) met her teammates, it seemed like the first time she ever met them. (It didn't matter she went to school with three out of four of them, it seemed like Hogwarts was a place that lasting friendships don't happen unless you're wearing the same colours). She's heard of them, yes, but then again, who hasn't? Harry Potter is legendary in his own right and Daphne Greengrass has been the topic of some newspaper headlines in the past year; Adrian Pucey is one of the favoured apprentices in Mungo's and Harper Delano was one of the most popular volunteers in the children's ward.

Lisa thinks she's the only one that she'll be the first one to be cut; the program only accepts thirty with the most potential, and with the credentials the other four has, its like comparing a first year with a fifth year. It's not ideal, but she makes do.

That's what she does best anyway.

"Oye, team!" Healer Specialist William Paige yells across the apprentice hall of St. Mungo's, disrupting her train of thought. "Follow me."

It was a simple command, but unlike Professor Flitwick, if you don't follow Paige, better prepare a reasonable and sound explanation, else he'll make your life hell.

Dressed in the given healer apprentice robes, sort of similar to their muggle counterpart's scrubs, Lisa trips over other resting apprentices to reach the rest of her team; they all look so clean, professional. Potter might have perpetually messy hair, but he fills out his uniform nicely and Pucey, he looks like he always does, not a hair out of place. Greengrass and Delano look like they've put on some intricate glamour charms and fixed their hair; she looks like she crashed out of bed and dressed in the dark, a far cry from the rest of them.

She rubs her eyes as she falls in step with the team; she too tired to pull thirty-six hour shifts, she has a three year old son and an almost non-existent marriage, this kind of work isn't meant for her. But then her thoughts get interrupted as she feels someone grasp her elbow.

"What?" Lisa responds automatically, as she looked at the face of Daphne Greengrass, all beautiful and angular and perfect cheekbones; bright blue eyes and straight platinum blonde hair. Unlike her, fizzy chocolate coloured hair and hazel eyes, with a round face and a button nose, she's nothing like the rest of her beautiful team mates.

"Ilka's patient file," Daphne tells her, handing over a steel covered case, "Paige is going to ask for it in a while; hold it for me?"

Lisa wants to say no, but Daphne's nice and friendly, once you get past the icy exterior and the caustic remarks. Lisa nods reluctantly, "Sure," she agrees.

Only she doesn't know what she's agreeing to.

"Thanks!" Daphne says, and glides over to Potter's side once again. It had always been like that, ever since the orientation; she thought that they knew each other from before, but apparently they just met in that same event as the rest of them. Inwardly, she thinks that bright eyed people attract each other like moths to a flame, both have eyes like cats, predatory and precise, and that if you feel subject to their gaze, it makes one wish for death.

Or escape. Which ever comes first really.

They stop in front of Pyotr Ilka's ward, and just like Greengrass said, Paige asks for the file.

"File?" He says, and suddenly Lisa steps forward and hands over the said file.

Barely sparing her a look, he enters the room. "Pyotr!" He greets the man sitting by the window pane, "How are you?"

It seems like an innocent enough question, but then, while Paige asks those kinds of questions, Potter stands behind the patient and conducts a few medical ward checks and Greengrass stands beside him conducting diagnostic charms, Lisa and Delano are regulating the medication on the vials in the corner of the room, checking if they are being taken and not simply vanished. Pucey is with Potter and Greengrass, he's probably double checking Potter's work. (It doesn't need to; Potter's one of the best medical warders in the entire hospital staff. Lisa heard he's applying to have a mastery on it, but she thinks that's just a rumour, sort of like when he disappeared when they were in third year and the school said he drove off a hundred Dementors with his own patronus. Mere here say).

She tries to finish the potion checks, but Delano keeps harping about inane things, like if Potter and Greengrass are fucking and if Pucey is gay. Lisa thinks _it doesn't matter, not unless it starts to affect their work. Their personal life is that, personal. We shouldn't butt in, in that. Why, do you want the world to discuss that you're fucking Malcolm from Neuro, or Callaghan from WD, or Dee the receptionist when they're in the middle of curing a man from a lfe long affliction?_

Apparently, she says that out loud, because when she looks towards the rest of the team they're trying to contain their laughter, and Paige looks like he's going to crack, and Ilka is clapping. "I never knew you could give someone a telling off like that, Healer Finnegan." Ilka tells her, and she's wondering on how loud she just said what she said. And what exactly did she say?

"Um, thanks, I guess?" Lisa tells them, unsure.

It seems to be the lynch pin for Paige, as he slaps his forehead in annoyance. "Finnegan, diagnostics?" He demands; Paige is anything if not professional, he won't be able run the Trauma department for the past fifty years if he wasn't.

"Uh, well. Mr. Ilka has taken all the required potions, a daily dose of aconite and beozar focused potions. He's also taken the requested potions of dreamless sleep and calming drought, though I'd suggest to lessen their dosage to ward off dependency and addiction." She tells Paige, before turning towards the patient, "Sorry, Mr. Ilka" she says to him with a smile.

"None taken, Healer Finnegan." He tells her, still smiling. "You can tell me to curb my addictions anytime." He adds with a wink.

The rest of the team laughs, only with Delano, it was more of a nervous chuckle, then Paige asks Potter and Greengrass of their findings, before analysing the situation at hand, explaining that the werewolf scratches on Ilka won't be infectious if the treatment is kept ongoing for another three weeks, and until then, he'll be seeing the rest of the ducks every other day.

Ilka says as long as he doesn't turn to a furry creäture every time the moon is in full bloom, he'd be okay seeing the ducks. Especially, Healer Finnegan.

Lisa's blushing as she walks out of the room and Potter and Pucey put their arms around her, and she feels her face heat up another ten degrees.

"Thanks, Lise." Potter tells her, "For defending our dignities." Pucey adds, before both of them duck to kiss her cheeks.

She lets out a surprised yell, and Daphne laughs at her predicament. "Don't mind them Lisa, boys will be boys, you know?"

Lisa nods, agreeing. "Yes, they kind of remind me of little Danny, don't you think?"

"Oye!" Both men contest, but they were stopped there as Paige gestures them to get to the next patient: Lukas Milverton. It's one of her files, and she's going to run the diagnostics there.

She thinks she belongs when it comes to moments like this; Potter and Pucey taking the mickey out of each other, Daphne laughing at their antics, and Paige looking on them half-amused, half-exasperated. Delano is still quiet, and Lisa doesn't give a shit.

She's finally found her niche.

Though later, she sees Daphne corner Delano and then Potter do the same after an hour, she decides to finish of what they started; warning people has always been her forte, she wasn't known in Ravenclaw for getting whatever she wants whenever she wants it by being a non-entity.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please review?


End file.
